She walked back into the kitchen, looking at the devastation that they had left behind. Sometimes she wished that she had never agreed to it. Jackie thought back to six months when they had first made the request.
"Oh, go on mum. It'll be great... please?"
Jackie could rarely refuse her precious Rose anything and so it had been agreed. Once a month, they were in charge.
Jackie sat in the living room, listening to them giggling away in the kirchen like a couple of kids. After what felt like hours, she was called to the table. Rose, standing beside it, was flushed and fanning herself with a tea-towel. The Doctor, grinning like an idiot, covered in cornflour.
"Ta-da!" They chorussed, pointing proudly at the offerings on the table.
Burnt meat, raw vegetables and the gravy, that the Doctor had so proudly made, thick enough to slice.
"Lovely." Jackie made her monthly response. At least the other three Sundays she was responsible for cooking the family Sunday roast. And her kitchen didn't look as if a war had taken place in it.